Ballad of the Thorton Gang
by GuiltySpark2K12
Summary: A summation of my first playthrough of Alpha Protocol, done the best way I know how...
1. Prelude

Chapter 1: Prelude

I'm gonna tell you of a virgin playthrough,  
From the RPG world, an entrant new,  
Shootin' or talkin', be quick on the draw,  
As Michael Thorton's runnin' from the law,

The shadowy world of secrets and spies,  
It swarms with double meanings and grayscale lies,  
But somewhere deep buried throbs adrenalin's tang,  
Oh, listen to the ballad of the Thorton Gang,

To take a step in this world on the black,  
You need a decent story at your back,  
Which ever step is the first that you make,  
Can forever color the path you'll take,

A valiant knight of the stripes and the stars,  
A nerd whose sole existence is signal bars,  
A fancy capungo who don't give a dang,  
And here begins the ballad of the Thorton Gang.


	2. Enter the Graybox

Up in the night, on a jumbo jet,  
The captain says "turbulence, but do not fret,"  
Though what the flight crew takes for some bumpy breeze,  
Is fatal jet wash from the land of tabriz,

The sheikh with one eye calls it Allah's just spear,  
A shot through the gut for American fear,  
Which feeds through the patch from the poisonous fang,  
And this begins the ballad of the Thorton Gang,

A man awakes as if from a dream,  
But the hospital props are not what they seem,  
As he twists out the kinks to feel what he's botched,  
He can't shake the feeling he's being watched,

As he starts to wonder just where did he land,  
A video chat sounds in reach of his hand,  
He takes his first glimpse of the lovely Miss Tang,  
Oh, listen to the bella of the Thorton Gang,

The pink-haired belle says he shouldn't be here,  
The twitch of her lips over-spells the fear,  
She offers him the option of breaking the glass,  
But his eyes un-clouding say he'd better pass,

He gives her a smile no girl could avoid,  
And asks her if a hand could come from her side,  
She pops the lock as her heart feels a pang,  
Oh, listen to the ballad of the Thorton Gang,

He slips out quiet and makes for the door,  
A shard of his restraints pops the tumblers four,  
He steps through the office, but the monitor'll bark,  
For another man stares, with his face as dark

As the cold displeasure of the sweat down his stache,  
He warns our runner that escape would be rash,  
And dares him to go quiet 'fore the horn starts to clang,  
Oh, listen to the ballad of the Thorton Gang,

He says, "You can't run, Mike, don't even try,"  
But one thing he ain't counting on with this young guy,  
A sonar of sorts with a touch ESP,  
That lets him sense where the guards ought to be,

And muscle memory never does fail,  
'Specially if your moves were born in Israel,  
His hand knocks nerves cold with barely a twang,  
Oh, listen to the ballad of the Thorton Gang,

The soldiers in ties have fists like hams,  
Our hero's standing barefoot in hospital jams,  
Eleven to one's gonna be kinda tough,  
So he tosses the cabinet for some heavy stuff,

He finds a small gun for a doc in a zoo,  
To knock out beasts that weigh a ton or two,  
It runs on air so it won't make a bang,  
Oh, listen to the ballad of the Thorton Gang,

Mike's armed and set to tackle twelve guys,  
But can even he dodge electric eyes,  
To slip unnoticed round an L-shaped bend,  
As the camera sweeps like a ghost end to end,

He might be young, but there's skill on his side,  
He stays unseen where there's nowhere to hide,  
He hits the ground running, not even a clang,  
Oh, listen to the ballad of the Thorton Gang,

An office block and two suits on the floor,  
Are all between him and the outside door,  
He'd like to get close so the guards he could drop,  
But behind the glass railing, there's more on top,

He sighs as he sees that there's no other way,  
And his rhino roscoe's itchin' to play,  
From around the corner it silently sang,  
Oh, listen to the ballad of the Thorton Gang,

He's out the door and hitting the dirt,  
For he finds he's put the base on a red alert,  
The troops are jamming a thin stretch of street,  
So he's gotta be quick on his silent feet,

As they openly wonder if he's more than a man,  
He slinks between them like only he can,  
And they saw nothing, so no alarms rang,  
Oh, listen to the ballad of the Thorton Gang,

The goons are dodged, no more cameras in sight,  
And Mike's across the threshold when out goes the light,  
And his on-screen watcher pops up with a smile,  
Saying, "Been following your dossier for quite a while,

"Though it's more of a pamphlet, if I have to come clean,  
And your latest performance says there's more to be seen,"  
All sorts of confusion in the air now does hang,  
Oh, listen to the ballad of the Thorton Gang,

The watcher says, "Mike, hate to string you along,  
But we can't risk a trail back if something goes wrong,  
And I'm sure my precautions you'll appreciate,  
When I say we work around our nation state,

A test for this agency hasn't much use  
For resumes, face-to-faces, MCQs,  
When on your responses the mission does hang,"  
Oh, listen to the ballad of the Thorton Gang,

Mike starts to wonder just what he is in,  
As Westridge asks the questions that go through his skin,  
He takes a deep breath, lets the tension retract,  
For this all depends on just how he'll react,

A Company kid where the mission is key,  
A true, loyal son of the land of the free,  
Or just some gay blade who don't give a dang,  
And this begins the ballad of the Thorton Gang.


	3. Secrets of the Graybox

As Mike steps out of the interview cell,  
The grunts sign him to follow, they look like hell,  
He's left his mark, they're recovering still,  
Now Westridge wants to beef up the morning drill,

'Cause the new guy's whipped them like the white of an egg,  
Without so much as a sprain in his leg,  
They snarl as they slam back the door with a clang,  
Oh, listen to the ballad of the Thorton Gang,

The locker room is a welcoming space,  
As our hero shapes the stubble that's grown on his face,  
He manscapes a little more than average guys,  
To take full advantage of his desi eyes

And what they do to the opposite sex,  
To make them feel what most men need muscles to flex,  
His eyes on a lady, in her head the bells clang,  
Oh, listen to the ballad of the Thorton Gang,

The hospital scrubs are thrown in a pile,  
As his charcoal slacks are picked up with a smile,  
He's thankful for inners and his favorite belt,  
As he pats himself over feeling for a welt,

His best blue shirt feels perfectly pressed,  
In shined leather oxfords his feet find rest,  
His blackfaced Omega buckles snug with a clang,  
Oh, visualize the hero of the Thorton Gang,

The vending machines are down to the right,  
The CNN ticker says it's late at night,  
Our hero's head turns to the one-eyed sheikh,  
Who's out of the shadows with a statement to make,

The sheikh makes a vow that the U.S. will pay,  
And al-Samad's fury will flare up some day,  
In cold, measured tones, venom flows from his fang,  
Oh, visualize the villain of the Thorton Gang,

Our hero laces up and looks right ahead,  
As he wonders where next he intends to tread,  
Cause he needs to unwind after that kind of night,  
The gun range is forward and the stealth camp is right,

And cordite therapy more often than not  
Feeds off frustrations when you're head's all hot,  
His gun hand aches for its trick-shooting thang,  
Oh, listen to the ballad of the Thorton Gang,

His hands are itching for some serious heft,  
But cooler heads crop up and he glances left,  
The gadget range seems to capture his eye,  
But what new kit awaits this modern spy,

With the smartwatch and dictapen part of the norms,  
Can spy tools still retain exotic forms,  
On a range meant for things that go off with a bang,  
Oh, listen to the ballad of the Thorton Gang,

His hands cool down with a towel that's damp,  
As his mind one-eightys to ninjutsu camp,  
He remembers his dodging of electric eyes,  
And his noiseless jogging past the suited guys,

The stealth camp beckons like a walk in the park,  
Like the instinct of a guy whose work's in the dark,  
He relishes striking like a hidden night-fang,  
Oh, listen to the ballad of the Thorton Gang,

His neck cricks back to face right before,  
Where the firing range beckons from behind the door,  
Some cordite therapy before the next step  
Could be just the right thing for his agent prep,

To let off steam could just help vent his head,  
And at least in a gallery no one gets dead,  
But is he really itchin' for the gunslinger's pang?  
Here deviates the ballad of the Thorton Gang.


End file.
